By The Board
by HowlingBanshee
Summary: Morticia lay beneath a blanket of snow, above a hollow reminiscence.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first fanfic! I own nothing, blah blah routine stuff. Hope you enjoy! Pardon my writing skills, it's been a while since I had any kind of grammatical reminding. **

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><p>The sky was white , as was the ground which was covered in a blanket of snow. The snow was still falling, falling in a slow, methodic silence. It was later in the day, which Morticia was thankful for because the brightness of the bare sky was less intense against her pale blue eyes. She lay amongst the fallen and falling snow, staring absently into the void above her. Her skin was without contrast to the snow falling around her. The only difference being the slight iridescent, pearly glow of her pale skin. The harmony only broken by long, cascading raven hair and lips more red than the finest wine.<p>

The snow was beginning to slowly bury her, uncaring where it fell. Her black dress was barely visible beneath the untouched snow. She wasn't wearing her coat, but she didn't mind. Her body was numb against the cold, and it was almost pleasant. Morticia blinked slowly as the small flakes fell onto her long lashes. Her blinking being the only movement aside from her shallow breathing. Her chest barely rising beneath the snow, constricted by her painfully tight corset. Morticia closed her eyes, wishing she could forget the world around her. There was only silence, even the sound of the snow wasn't enough to break the stillness.

Gently, Morticia raised her hand from the unbroken snow. Reaching above her head, her fingers slowly swept across the smooth stone, catching at times on the carved letters. Her mind wondered to the letters, so familiar with their shape. Thoughts of her responsibilities clawed at her mind, but she didn't want to think about them. She only wanted to lay in the silence and trace her fingers over the smooth letters of the headstone. Try as she might, the thoughts continued to intrude on her peacefulness. Swimming together at once, clouding her reverie. The children, her plants, her home, her life! Everything that was her seemed to come at once, pleading for her attention.

Her eyes calmly opened, and she rose from her somber bed of snow. Still sitting, she looked forward, her home barely visible beyond the curtain of snow. Inside those walls, everything that was her. Yet, she wished she could remain where she was forever. Forget the mundane world around her. It had been more than a year since she felt anything resembling her abstraction. She shivered as the thoughts crept back into her mind. His scent still lingered around her, no matter how often she washed the sheets. There was always the whispered scent of his cigars, his cologne, and his flavor. Her head slowly turned to look behind her, her eyes dancing across the letters. A single, glistening tear rolled down her cheek at the sight of the words. The words which seemed so unnatural and beyond the imagination as they stood alone without hers. Morticia's eyes wondered down to the script below the familiar name. The words brought to life her continuous nightmares. Nightmares of an angry storm, and an angry sea. Her breath caught in her throat as she imagined his sinking features vanishing quietly beneath the darkness.

Suddenly, she heard a small voice ringing from the silence, "Mother," it echoed. She sighed heavily at this beckoning, knowing it meant her solemn musing was at an end. She stood gracefully, snow falling from her dress. Morticia moved elegantly across the untouched snow. She stopped at the iron gates and glanced back behind her, pondering why she chose this place to escape to. The was nothing under the snow, under the earth, under the grave.

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><p><strong>Don't worry, this story isn't over yet. <strong>


	2. Chapter 2

Again she heard a voice ring over the silence, only this time it was another voice, "Morticia," it called. It was unlike the adult members of the family to interrupt her solemn moments. She turned to face the house, knowing it must be an important matter. Yet through the thick whiteout of snow, which had suddenly increased around her, she saw a figure moving towards her. It was not the form of a child, not that of Grand-Mama, and not that of Lurch. As her eyes strained through the storm, another call rang out, this time the distinct voice of a man. Perhaps the whistling winds were distorting Uncle Fester's voice, the only one left who would have called out to her. She waited, unmoving, for another calling. She waited and waited but no one called. The storm was thickening, closing in around her. She could stand it no longer, frustrated she cried out, "I'm here!"

Panic began to rise within her as she was met with only the sound of the wind. Hurriedly, she moved forward, hoping to meet the him on the path. A few steps away from the gate, she could see a denseness before her. She stopped, when she did not recognize the form. It was not Uncle Fester, it was taller, more powerfully built. Morticia let a small, silent laugh escape her throat as the sudden idea came into her head. It was an impossible thought. Perhaps she was still laying by the grave, perhaps she had fallen asleep amongst the silent snow. She smiled slightly and reached out her hand toward the figure, closing her eyes. If this truly was reality, her hand would be met with a familiar touch. Her graceful fingers reach out into the storm, feeling only the frequent caress of snowfall.

Her breaths were deep and caught in her throat as she felt the overwhelming sense of reality colliding with her thoughts. She breathed in deeply through her nose, but stopped suddenly when her senses were filled with a familiar aroma. Before another thought entered her mind, something closed in around her hand. She smiled widely, tears gliding down her face. A hand brushed against her cheek, as she breathed in the smell around her. Morticia reached up and caressed the hand on her cheek. It was a warm, strong hand. Another hand slipped around her waist, and pulled her against a solid, muscular form. Morticia finally opened her eyes, but did so slowly in hopes that her daydream would not vanish. Expecting, still, to only see snow before her, Morticia was met with a piercing gaze. She moved her hand from his and reached up to touch his face. Her hand met with the soft, olive skin of his cheek, and then she traced her fingers over his lips. Fingers which had just recently been tracing the letters on his headstone. What once felt cold, stone beneath them, now felt alive, soft flesh. "Gomez," she whispered weakly, as the arms held her tightly. He leaned in toward her, bumping his nose to hers, gently touching his forehead with hers. Her hands traced over his neck and behind his head. "I'm here," he said.

Unable to control herself, Morticia cried out, leaning her head into his chest. His embrace tightened around her. Morticia threw her arms his neck, and gracefully jumped to reach her head above his shoulders to embrace him. Gomez caught Morticia around the waist and held her above the ground as she clung to his neck, soft cries escaping her chest. "Oh, my darling," she whispered. Gomez was silent, as his wife cried in his arms. He turned his head toward her and breathed in the beautiful perfume of her hair. Gomez collapsed to his knees, Morticia still clinging to him. He held her there in his lap, snow falling thickly around them.


	3. Chapter 3

Gomez and Morticia stayed together in the snow for some time, neither one speaking, only embracing. When Morticia shivered slightly, Gomez knew it was time to take her inside. "Cara mia, you're going to freeze out here without a coat," he removed his arms from her and slipped his coat off, Morticia still hanging onto his neck. Gomez placed the coat over her shoulders, and returned to their embrace. Seeing that she was not going to let go, Gomez slipped his arm behind her knees and kept the other on her back. Without difficulty, he lifted her up from the ground. Even though he had been away, he had not forgotten the feel of her in his arms, yet he felt that there was less of her now. Barely able to see the house through the storm, Gomez made his way back, carrying his silent wife in his arms. When he reached the house, Lurch quickly opened the door for them. He stepped through the doorway, bringing with him a considerable amount of snow. Gomez let out a small laugh, "Sorry, Lurch," he winked. Lurch grumbled, but put his hand on Gomez's shoulder. The children ran in from the living room to the corridor, "Father!" they said with smiles on their faces, "What's happened to mother?" Wednesday asked. "I think she may be in shock," Ma-ma rang out from across the room, "better take her up to bed before she catches a chill." Gomez nodded his head and moved toward the stairs. As he began to climb, he couldn't help but reminisce about the first time he carried her up these stairs. He smiled at the thought of their odd meeting, and the events that led up to their marriage. He loved her the first time he saw her. She was so innocent, and yet so alluring. He admired every curve of her body, and had come to know it so well throughout their marriage that it seemed impossible to ever forget, but he had. Not a moment went by during his absence that he didn't think of her. But, even someone so familiar with her couldn't help forget things. He had made it to their bedroom now, he looked around and sighed heavily. How he had missed this room, this room which held so many memories. Just an expanse of space, furniture, and walls that had been there in their most glorious of moments. Oh, how he had missed this room. He walked over to the bed, looking it over more than anything, _this_ bed. The bedding was not in order, as it usually was. He could tell that what had been his side of the bed was the side that had been slept on. He swallowed hard, and felt an overwhelming amount of guilt rise within him. How lonely she must have been without him, never knowing of his whereabouts, thinking he was dead. And he, having the luxury was knowing that she was alive and well, he hated himself for it. Gomez knelt down over her usual side of the bed and gently laid her down, her arms falling from around his neck. Her eyes were closed, yet she had a pleasant look on her face. He wanted more than anything to stay with her here, to be there when she opened her eyes so she knew it was real, but he owed his family an explanation. He pulled the blankets over Morticia, tucking them in closely around her neck. "God's," he whispered, "such beauty." He forced his eyes away from her, and quickly left the room.

Downstairs, he and the rest of the family had gathered in the living area together, Wednesday and Pugsley sitting closely to their father. "I don't wish to keep you up all night with my tale, so I will make it quick," he began, only wishing to be upstairs as soon as he was able, to be there for Morticia when she awoke, "I am aware that members of my crew came to all of you with news of my death, which is understandable. We sailed into a hurricane on that night, on my command . The ship was strong enough to withstand the storm, and we had little excitement on our hunt for the rare species of eel that we initially set out for. It was a beautiful hurricane," Gomez smiled, "such winds and waves that you wouldn't believe. I was at the helm, steering us right into the heart of the storm. The ship and the crew worked as one, we laughed and cheered with every obstacle that dared to interfere with the mighty S.S. Morticia, " he stopped and winked at his children, who giggled embarrassingly, "It would have been a flawless adventure if," his expression becoming more somber now, "if there hadn't been a rogue wave. It was a hundred feet high, and towered over the ship without warning. The crew scramble to their positions and I turned the ship to meet the monster head on. The men readied themselves and found anchor, but I was left at the wheel. I was the captain after all. We soared over the wave, with hardly any difficulty, but I couldn't hold the helm. It slipped from my grasp and spun out of control, sending the ship up the wave at an angle. Before I would even think to hold onto the ship, I was tossed overboard like a scrap of meat. We had reached the top of the rave by now, but it was too late. I watched as the crew scrambled to turn the ship back, but they couldn't fight the winds," he stopped at this, pulling his children in closer to him. "How did you survive father?" Pugsley piped up. "Well, we were luckily in the Bermuda triangle when this occurred, so I was able to catch a current and drift to the nearest island. I stayed there for a couple of months while I gathered the necessary items to build a boat. When the time came, I sailed my makeshift boat toward the bigger islands which I could see across the horizon. Unlucky for me, the island I was on wasn't in the fishing territory, so any ships that would have come my way would have been close enough to signal. When I reached the big island, I had nothing but what was left of the clothed on my back. No identity, no money to pay for a ticket home. I made a deal with a local fisherman that I would work on his ship until the fishing migration led me closer to home. It took a lot longer than I had anticipated, seeing that it was the beginning of the season." He didn't want to go on. The reality of how long he had been gone was all around him. "It's alright, father. We are just glad to have you back." Wednesday spoke up. Uncle Fester reached out to the table beside him, "Here, " he said, "your crew brought us this." He handed Gomez a golden spyglass, which Gomez recognized to be his own. He smiled slightly at this, thankful his crew cared enough to bring it to his grieving family. Gomez kissed each of his children on the top of their head, "You two had better get into bed, you have had enough excitement for one night," he laughed. Wednesday and Pugsley hugged Gomez tightly before running up the stairs towards their rooms. Gomez sighed, "Well, I think I will retire as well. It's been too long since I slept in my own bed." He bid the rest of the family a good night and headed up the stairs, feeling a nostalgic sense of nervousness as he opened his bedroom door.


	4. Chapter 4

Gomez gently opened the bedroom door, his heart in his throat as it quietly creaked open. He peered inside and was almost relieved to find Morticia not in their bed. He quickly glanced around the room for her, but when he heard the gentle rain-like sound of water running, he knew where she was. Gomez could smell her throughout the room, and the damp, warm air that was now clouding around him was of the most divine aroma imaginable. A mess of black silk lay carelessly across her bed, surrounded by a black lace corset and other intimate things. Gomez crossed the room and ran his fingers across the delicate fabric. Black silk, expensive black silk. His heart beat against his chest as he imagined her without this dress, her in this dress, this dress which she had vowed to never be without. He recognized this particular dress, though she had many others, this one was particular. This was the dress she wore on their wedding. The guilt, which he had tried to suppress suddenly emerged within him. His other half, abandoned by his foolishness and recklessness, what solitude she must have felt. A year without one another , a year of him working tirelessly to return to her, a year of agony when every thought of her plagued his mind, a year of her thinking that he was to never return. In yet, here she was, here he was. Just walls between them now, instead of an ocean.

Gomez sat down on the bed, looking around the room. He paid no mind to the things that belonged to him, only to her. How he worshiped her, how he craved her. The sound of the water, which was ultimately soothing, suddenly stopped. Gomez inhaled deeply, he noticed that her dressing robe was laying across the chair of her dressing table. After all this time, he was still the same devilish cad. But, that isn't what mattered most to him, just to see her before him was enough, to know she was real as was this reality. He could hear her small, bare footsteps trace across the marble floors of the bathroom. Morticia rounded the corner, a towel in hand as she dried the ends of her ebony hair. Gomez's mouth dropped open at the sight of her. Never could imagination give truth to such beauty, her beauty. His eyes traveled up and back down her bare skin, as she carelessly strolled around the corner. Hardly noticing Gomez sitting on their bed, Morticia glanced once in his direction, but still paid no mind. For so long she had imagined seeing him there, waiting for her after her long lavations. Morticia was angry at herself for fabricating the dream of his return. How dare her mind betray her then with such absolute certainty, and to do so now, to continue with the lie that her love had returned. Gomez suddenly cleared his throat, but before he could speak, Morticia let out a startled cry. She dropped the towel she had in hand, and stepped back against the framework of the doorway. Her breaths short and her eyes wide. Gomez stood, trying his best to control where his eyes went, "Quireda," he whispered. Her bottom lip was quivering, seeing her cry was always his undoing. "No," she said softly, tears running down her face, "you're dead. Gomez stepped slowly towards her, his eyes darting up and down. He dropped to his knees before her, "I don't know how I can prove to you that I am as real as the air around you." Gomez extended his hand to her. Morticia looked at his hand skeptically, then softly she reached out and took his hand. She drew in a sharp breath at the feel of his rough hand. "It is you," she said, skeptically, her feet moved from under her and she slowly slid to the floor.

Moving gently, as to not frighten her, Gomez made his way over to her. Morticia hesitated to make eye contact with him, as she was completely exposed before him, her arms moved to cover herself, but Gomez stopped her with a caress of her cheek. She moved her faced toward his touch, small warm tears gliding down her face. They stared into each other's eyes, not saying a word. Morticia swallowed hard, she moved from against the wall to sit up on her knees. Gomez's hand gently fell from her cheek as she moved toward him, soft sobs caught in her throat. She slid her arms around his neck, never breaking eye contact with him. Gomez followed suit and moved his arms around her waist, his fingers delicately grazing her skin. Morticia shivered against his touch, her eyebrows creased slightly, confused by the sensation as if it were new. Her lips moved to speak, but there were no words to be said. With a gentle breath, Morticia leaned toward Gomez, her lips grazed against his in hesitation. Unable to be patient, Gomez pushed his lips to hers, more rough than he had intended. Her eyes shot open at the unexpected touch, but she didn't break the kiss. Though she had grown somewhat shy over his absence, she took a deep breath through her nose and returned the kiss, tightening her arms a little around his neck. Again, Gomez took this as encouragement and tightened his grip around her, pulling her toward him to be flush against his body. He could feel her against him, her bare breast delicately touching him, the naked flesh of her back under his hands. Morticia couldn't help her own excitement and moved herself to sit over his lap. Their lips crashed into each other's as their embrace tightened. Gomez couldn't control his thoughts, as his bare wife moved herself closer to him, her fingers tangling in his hair. Morticia could feel him beneath her, as her modesty flooded her thoughts, suddenly fully aware of what was happening. She broke the kiss, Gomez immediately moved to her neck, his kisses hot and rough against her skin. Her breaths deep and long, Gomez groaned as her breast moved against him. "Gomez," she said breathlessly.  
>"Yes, my goddess." he said between kisses.<br>Morticia looked around the room, nervously, "Gomez, I-"  
>He stopped to look at her, confusion in his eyes, "- it's been a long time since," she stopped herself, feeling her cheeks flush. Gomez raised his eyebrows, unfamiliar with such shyness from her. Not since their first night together had she shown any sort of timidity. His grip around her loosened, but she stopped him with a shy kiss, "Just, be gentle," she whispered. Remembering their first night, Gomez laughed through his nose, "I can't make any promises," he said, his arms sweeping under her legs. He carried her to the bed and laid her down gently, moving over her as her hands moved from his neck to the buttons on his shirt. Her lips met his as she pulled his shirt open, her hands traveling up his muscular chest and over his shoulders. She slid the shirt over his arms and tossed it carelessly to the floor. Gomez moved to kiss her jaw line, then down her neck. Morticia's hands were limp as he kissed across her collar bone, and down her décolletage. He kissed between her breast, his hands moving up and down her rib cage. She purred softly as his hand moved to cup her breast, the other pulling her thigh up around his hip. Her finger's regained their feeling, and her hands shot down to his waistline. Thankful he wasn't wearing a belt, her finger's quickly worked against his trousers, pulling them down as best she could. Gomez returned to her lips, his tongue waltzing with hers. He removed his trousers and boxers with ease, kicking them to the floor. Morticia gasped as he bumped against her leg, she didn't need her eyes to see him, a smile stretching across her face through their kiss.<p>

An entire year flashed before her eyes, a year of solitude and emptiness, every emotion of grief washing away from her with each kiss. Morticia raised her hips, encouraging him to complete her. She breathed in sharply, as he groaned into her neck. Half of her, half of her heart and soul which had been lost, was returned to her. She remembered him now entirely, everything that was and is. Morticia hummed as she and Gomez entangled themselves with each other. She rolled into him to move herself on top, but instead sent them both tumbling down onto the floor. Morticia remembered now, how she teased him as she crawled back from him. Gomez grabbed her ankle, moaning sensuously, pulling her back down to the floor as he crawled over her, thrusting back into her passionately. Morticia cried out against his lips, her arms tightly around his neck as she held on for dear life. They moved together in perfect unison. She arched her back and met his movement with an even bigger one. If there was anything Gomez loved, it was a competition. Back and forth they played against each other, each movement bigger than the last. Gomez, who had an entire year of frustration and passion built within him couldn't help himself, he thrust against her with such force that her head crashed into the wall behind them. Morticia gasped, opening her eyes to look at Gomez, then to the wall behind her. When she saw the hole in the drywall, she turned back to him, rage in her eyes. Gomez's eyes widened as they met her gaze. Morticia's lips curled into a devilish smile as she pounced onto him, sending them both rolling across the floor.

They lay together before the hearth. Intertwined in each other's arms, Morticia thought about how just earlier that day she was laying solemnly in the cold, silent snow. She was complete with him, and he with her. No mind to how he came to be there now, none of that mattered anymore. "You're never leaving my side again," she whispered. Gomez leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, "I wouldn't dream of it, not when I can be here to fuck you through the wall," he laughed. Morticia smiled widely, it felt good to laugh and smile. Gomez had missed her smile, though it was rare, it meant she was her most complete, her most absolute self. Morticia glanced over to her dressing robe, she sat up, looking toward it but before she could move, Gomez grabbed her hand, "Oh no, this isn't over yet," he said, his Castilian accent filling her ears lustfully, "you have a year of this to make up." he pointed up and down his body. He moved to Morticia, his lips grazing over hers, his hands traveling up her body. She pushed him back, climbing on top of him, "A year and 3 months, " she kissed him, "6 hours," she continued, "and...mmm50 minutes." she cooed. Gomez laughed loudly, pulling her to be against him. She kissed him gracefully, her fingers combing through his hair. Gomez returned her kiss, wrapping his strong arms around her with depravity. His darling, his soul mate, his cara mia. Morticia let soft tears glide down her cheeks as she and Gomez entangled themselves once again, every embrace and kiss filled with more love than an infinite universe could possess. Her darling, her soul mate, her Bubalah.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Please, R&amp;R if you have any comments for suggestions! I don't know anything about love making, so sorry if this comes up short meheh. Happy fanficing!<strong>


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